


Glitter Everywhere.

by entirely_the_wrong_sort



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (the trifecta of every great night out), AU, Blood, Bullying, Drunken Confessions, Glitter, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Biphobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 14:37:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7319152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entirely_the_wrong_sort/pseuds/entirely_the_wrong_sort
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I swear to God, if you say it’d look better on your bedroom floor I’m gonna break your nose for real.” He wheels around towards the door as Dean splutters his denial. “And you’re not getting it back.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glitter Everywhere.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt I saw on a random AU... OTP... prompt tumblr... I forget exactly where, but it was: 'You bullied me in school for being gay and now we're on a blind date.' It ended up a bit different to that prompt, but it was still the spark that started it.

Cas wasn’t the type to go out partying very often, and he _certainly_ wasn’t one to go out cruising; but once in a blue moon when he’s just stressed enough at work and his family are causing more than normal drama and the weather’s fine and the planets align just so... his friends _might_ just be able to persuade him to hit the town. For a special occasion. And he could never say no to his best friend Charlie who had come all the way over (an hour on the highway) to see him for his birthday weekend and she was always a riot when drunk (although that was mostly over board games at home that always seemed to end up with them stripping, even at monopoly). 

From the minute he’d agreed to come out for one quick drink at the local bar, he’d been swept away on the tide of Charlie’s enthusiasm and before he knew it he was five shots and two beers in, covered in glitter and joined by what feels like every person he knows at a gay bar halfway across town.

Though he couldn’t be farther from his comfort zone, he had to admit he was having a good time; it’s hard to ignore a solid bassline. He’s getting hit on a lot, which any other night would’ve made him run for the hills, but he’s buzzed enough to enjoy the rare attention, maybe even bask a bit.

“Cas, you’re on fire tonight!” Charlie laughs over the pounding music, as Cas politely turns away from yet another sweaty guy trying to dance with him.

“I think it’s the glitter,” he gestures at himself.

“Or maybe you’re frickin’ adorable!” Charlie checks out Cas’ suitor as he dances away ever on the prowl. “Hey, he seems pretty cute. Why’d ya ditch him?”

“C’mon, Charlie, have you met me?” he scoffs, draining the last of the beer in his hand, “I haven’t reached peak blood alcohol levels for making out with strangers yet. I need at least another dozen tequilas for that.”

“Did I hear someone say tequila?” his fellow nurse Big Pete sings, draping himself over Charlie.

“Excellent! Shots!” Oscar, Charlie’s college mate, shouts and starts a chant over the music amongst them. “Shots! Shots! Shots!”

Before Cas realises what’s happening, Oscar’s boyfriend Jimmy shoves the ceremonial Zorro Mask of the Drink Runner over his head. The gang laugh drunkenly at his weak protests; he’d managed to successfully avoid the dumb, sweaty thing all night so far. Charlie smirks at Cas. “I guess it’s your turn to hit the bar, Cassie.”

He rolls his eyes, but makes his way across the dance floor to a chorus of whoops and cheers from his so called friends. As he reaches the bar (a full 3 minutes later after being swept up into dancing with the crowd), a very drunk bachelorette falls off a stool, knocking Cas straight into the person behind him. With a sharp smack, his head collides with what feels like a nose and his back is suddenly drenched in beer.

“Ah!”

Cas turns to see a guy bent over, clutching his face with one hand and a half-empty beer glass in the other. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” he frets, ignoring the throbbing in his own head. “Oh, you’re bleeding!”

“No dude, it’s fine,” the guy shouts back through rapidly bloodying fingers. “I get them all the time.”

On autopilot nurse mode, Cas takes the glass from the guy’s hand, passes it to a random onlooker, and presses a hand to the back of his head. “Here, keep your head down and pinch the bridge of your nose hard.”

“What?” the guy has to scream over an obnoxiously loud song change because Cas is still forcing his head down. Blood starts dripping onto the floor through the guy’s hands now. People are starting to stare at them, backing away from the gory and beer-soaked mess. Panicking, Cas grabs one thick, blood-slick wrist and drags him across the bar into the men’s room. 

Once inside, he lets go and heads to a cubicle to grab wads of tissue paper. “Keep your head down and pinch the bridge,” he repeats now the music’s muffled. 

“Dude, I know, I get them all the time.” His voice is thick and bunged up with blood. He’s sat up on the counter, head already between his knees when Cas returns from the cubicle. Geez, he’s even got blood in his hair! If only it were hallowe’en he’d fit right in. They get a low whistle of curiosity from a guy who pushes past them out of the room, leaving them alone.

“I’m so sorry –”

“- nah, it was an accident. You didn’t even hit me that hard.” The angry throbbing on the back of Cas’ skull makes him beg to differ.

“Does it feel broken?”

“Of course it’s not! Hey, I’m sorry I ruined your shirt.”

“Oh, right.” Cas suddenly remembers he’s soaking wet. Looking down at it, he sees he’s also somehow splashed with blood. It wasn’t even _his_ ; his nurse friend Lily had forced him into it during pre-drinking card games back at the apartment. He could take it off and try to wash it in the basin, but all things considered, the explosive destruction of someone’s face takes priority. He sighs and goes about wetting the wad of tissue to clean Bloodface up.

Bloodface tugs with his free hand at the plaid shirt tied around his waist. “You can borrow my shirt if you want.” 

“I’m not sure soaked in blood is better than soaked in beer.”

“Yeah, maybe not. Hey, have we met before?” he asks. “Your voice sounds kinda familiar.” Cas looks at him. Without a clear shot of his face it’s hard to tell, but he seems like he could be good-looking from the back of his head: caucasian but nicely tanned, his light brown hair short and stylish, broad shoulders and tight back muscles even beneath his black t-shirt. He’s also had a vague sense of familiarity though, but Cas meets a lot of people: it’s kind of his job.

“Uh, maybe. I don’t come here often, though.”

“Me neither, it’s my first time,” Bloodface laughs softly between his knees. “Hey, I think the bleeding’s stopping.”

“Okay, lemme look.” Cas reaches under the guy’s chin to check it out and when he pulls his hand away Castiel freezes, suddenly hit by memories with the force of a bus. His stomach clenches tightly and his jaw goes slack with shock, a wide range of emotions fighting for the right to be expressed first.

“D-Dean Winchester?” he stutters out, voice louder than he meant. 

Dean looks at him, surprised and bloody, but not with recognition. “Yeeeah,” he frowns warily.

“What’re you doing here?”

“Slowly bleeding out? I’m sorry man, where do I know you from?”

“Please tell me you’re just here with a friend or something.”

“Dude, c’mon, who are you?”

For a second, Cas is hit with a wave of indignant rage that Dean doesn’t remember him - after everything he’d put him through, things that still affect Cas even now, ten years after graduating from that awful place - before he realises he’s still wearing the stupid goddamn Zorro Mask. He whips it off his head, still riding on the wave of that sudden anger, and Dean’s face instantly pales, eyes widening in recognition.

“Oh geez,” Dean breathes.

“Yeah, I’ll bet! I gotta say I didn’t think I’d ever see _you_ again.”

“Yeah, same here. Though I’m guessing that was probably a good thing in your book, right?” Dean rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, avoiding Cas’ piercing stare. His voice is still fogged up and Cas now is annoyed that that bachelorette didn’t push him harder into Dean’s face.

“You think?” Cas snarls coldly, his fists clenching unconsciously. Dean flinches and a lash of pleasure curls in Cas’ gut. 

“Hey man, I know.” Dean holds up his bloodied hands in a gesture of surrender. “You have every right –” 

“Oh no. No way. You don’t get to say sorry now.” 

Cas was not a confrontational man by nature. Ordinarily, he’d just leave and pretend this never happened; he still could. But this is Dean _fucking_ Winchester sitting in front of him, caked in blood in a gay bar bathroom, in a city nearly 2000 miles away from their hometown! And Cas is standing here - a walking stereotype covered in glitter, wearing a diamante studded women’s t-shirt and drunker than he’s been in years - in front of Dean motherfucking Winchester. He should be mortified, but the swell of emotions and adrenaline and alcohol in his veins meant he could barely control his thoughts let alone the words that keep coming out of nowhere. What were the chances - statistically, divinely, whatever - he’s pretty sure it’s goddamn low! 

“Jesus, we’re halfway across the country! How the fuck did you even find me –!”

“Dude, I didn’t _find_ you, I’m not _hunting_ you!” Dean throws his arms up wildly in protest. “It’s just a weird coincidence. A really weird, really awkward… awful coincidence.”

“Then what the _fuck_ are you doing here?!”

“I live here now.”

Just when he thought this couldn’t be worse. What next? They’ve secretly been neighbours this whole time? Is he the bastard at no. 32 that listens to music way too loud at 2 am? Of course he is, this is Dean Winchester. He lives to make Cas’ life hell. “Unbelievable!”

“What? Sioux Falls isn’t Hotel goddamn California, y’know. Anyone can leave!”

“But why to _here_? This is my city!”

“Jesus, Castiel, San Fran’s a big fucking city, learn to share.”

“You’re one of the reasons I’ve never gone back to visit that town, _Dean_! How much shit you put me through at school! I thought I was finally free of that. I have _friends_ here, and a good job and fucking _self-esteem_ for the first time in my life and now _you_ live here?!”

“Look, I know I was a massive dick in –”

“ – And now, you’ve even taken away the one place in town I could even try and hide from you.”

“I’ve never even been here before! I thought you said you haven’t either!”

“That’s not the point, _Dean_ –” Cas spits out.

“ – stop saying my name like that –”

“ – the point is that you’re in the one safe place that people like me can escape people like _you_.”

“People like me?” Dean stills, raising his eyebrows in surprise. Cas is so angry, it’s taking all his energy not to punch Dean right in his stupid blood-smeared face. His balled fists are shaking, squeezing the life out of the forgotten wad of wet tissues soaking his hand and the floor.

“Dumbass, ignorant, backwater, homophobic bullying shit heads. Like you! What’re you even doing here? Looking for someone to follow home and lynch! Was it for a fucking _joke_?”

“Wh –! How fucking _dare_ you, Castiel!” It’s hard to say which of them looks more outraged and offended. Cas didn’t even notice that Dean had stood up, his contorted face inches away from Cas’. They were seconds away from a brawl. “You really think that little of me? I _never_ beat you up –”

“You still bullied me, you asshole!”

“I was on a date!”

“Huh?”

“With a guy! I came here tonight to dance and drink with a dude, because I’m into dudes too!” 

There’s a long ringing pause as Cas tries to process this. Dean Winchester - the bane of his existence for 4 long confusing years - was _gay_? The guy had gone through half the girls in town by the time they graduated. Often several at a time. If he’s telling the truth, then Dean Winchester’s just redefined the new standard for closet case. 

“Not that that means anything to you, right? Because deep down, everyone’s exactly the same person they were when they were dumb teenagers in fucking high school.” Cas stands stock still and watches Dean as he starts pacing wildly back and forth in front of him, waving his clenched fists, his whole body almost vibrating with the same rage that consumed Cas earlier. 

“And hey,” - he points a bloody finger in Cas’ face - “if you don’t want me to apologise for the shitty things I did to you ten years ago, fine! But don’t you _dare_ think that that makes you the bigger fucking man. You don’t get to make me feel guiltier than I already do if you’re not even willing to _believe_ that I might actually feel some semblance of remorse!” Cas opens his mouth to speak but Dean continues - “And yeah, I was a shitty kid. An awful fucking douchebag, I know I was. But did you ever even consider that I might’ve been working through my own issues?!”

“Are you seriously trying to justify yourself to me?” Unable to hold his tongue at that, Cas is shaking now, a chill shooting down his spine. “So it’s okay to bully the gay kid so long as you have your own issues, is that what you’re saying?”

Dean stops and looks taken aback. “What? No, that’s not what I meant at all!”

“Well that’s literally what you just said!”

“No, Cas I’m trying to say that –”

“ – You’re saying that my childhood trauma was nothing more than a fucking rest stop on your journey of self-discovery!”

“No, I’m saying that I was scared to death of you!”

“WHAT?” Cas screams with all his frustration, absolutely done with the ludicrousness of this whole thing. Dean Winchester - suddenly gay and covered in blood - telling Castiel - glittery and beer stained - in a bathroom, that he was scared of him! He wants to laugh until he passes out and not wake up until this turns out to have been some insane dream. “That’s nonsense!”

“You represented something I could never be! And it scared me. You were you!” Dean flails, a pleading in his voice, begging Cas to understand him even through their animosity. “You were unapologetically yourself. You didn’t ever pretend to be someone you weren’t and no one ever expected you to be.” Cas scoffs at that but Dean shakes his head and ploughs on, speaking with animated hands, “I hated you for it. My dad put so much on me. With my little brother and his plans for our futures. His standards were so high but I could never live up to them no matter what! I never even had the _equipment_ to live up to them. 

“Cas, you were _amazing_. You were the smartest kid in school. You loved books and Star Wars and fucking gardening and learnt dead languages for fun, for fucks sake! You were too nerd even for the nerd kids. You just did what made you happy.” Cas is utterly nonplussed at the wistful smile that’s crept onto Dean’s face as he calls Cas amazing, tears shining in his angry green eyes. “You were even good at sports, _really_ good - but you didn’t join any teams even though they’d have you in a heartbeat… because you didn’t want to! I hated the football team! I wanted to read and watch Star Wars and play D &D, but I couldn’t say no to my Dad. I wish to God I could’ve. 

"And you were funny, Cas. You came out with such brilliant stuff, but most people didn’t get your sense of humour, so you just became the weird kid with the stupid name who talks goofy. But you didn’t change at all, like any other teenager would. Like I did. And most of all Cas, what made me hate myself more than anything else - you never hid your identity, your _sexuality_ , despite the shitty things we did to you. No matter what we said, you were never ashamed of yourself. I was! I didn’t even want to understand what I was, I wouldn’t dare believe it. That stupid macho, tough guy image of myself that I built wasn’t compatible with liking other guys. 

“And through all that - that social awkwardness, that loneliness and bullying, you went home every day to parents who loved you and accepted you and stuck up for you and were _proud_ of you! Castiel, I took it out on you ‘cause I was so jealous of… of what you had.”

A silence abruptly falls over them. The tears had left clean streaks through the dried blood on Dean’s cheeks. He turns away and stalks silently to the basins. Cas just stares at his back blankly as Dean washes the blood from his face and hands at last. He notices that his own eyes are burning, and is suddenly aware that his cheeks are wet too. Breathing deeply, he wipes a hand over his face.

“How did you know I liked gardening?”

Dean laughs quietly into his wet hands and nods his head in appreciation. “I knew you, Cas. I knew everything about you.” They make eye contact in the mirror. “I was obsessed. You know how Draco Malfoy hates Harry Potter yet he seems to know where he is and what he’s doing at all times? That was me. Super creepy.”

That’s one word for it. There’s another long pause. Cas has no idea what to say to that. He’s still trying to wrap his head around the probability of them ever even _seeing_ each other again, let alone having an intimate head-to-head in a men’s room. It strikes Cas as odd, knowing what he knows about gay bar bathrooms, that they haven’t once been interrupted. Which reminds him, “So w-where’s your date?”

“Huh?”

“You said you were here on a date, but he hasn’t come looking for you…”

“It wasn’t going so well, if you must know. He was kinda, uh… full-on. Annoying accent, pretty impressive oedipal complex. So, I ditched him as soon as we got in here. I saw him leave with a married couple about ten minutes before we butted heads.”

“Oh.”

Dean dries himself off with a bunch of paper towels and Cas remembers the scrunched up wad in his own hand. He throws it at the overflowing trash can. “What about you, huh? I’da never pegged you for the cruising type.”

“I’m out with my friends.”

“For your birthday, right?” Cas just blinks, a little horrified by this strange turn of events. “Hey, I told you I was obsessed with you,” he shrugs with a smirk. “Won’t they all be missing you, too?”

“Apparently not.” He suspects it might be somewhat related to their extended and inexplicable privacy.

“Okay, how do I look?” Dean presents himself to Cas with a flourish. His eyes are still red from crying and his nose is hugely swollen, but he’s clean and much less bloody. Cas nods in approval, catching himself in the mirror over Dean’s shoulder and blushes at the appreciative face he was making.

“Presentable.”

“Good. You on the other hand…”

Cas looks more closely in the mirror. His eyes are swollen too, Dean’s drying blood flaking off his hands, and Lily’s diamante t-shirt is filthy. Plus the glitter looks ridiculous in his hair. Dean steps aside for Cas to wash his hands. “You should take my shirt. It’s way less gross than your top, you can’t see the blood on this dark plaid.”

Cas hesitates then nods in agreement, silently drying his hands on the bundle of paper towels Dean offers.

“You know, I left town as soon as I could. That place is all bad memories for me too. When my brother Sam graduated, we hit the road and never looked back.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. As soon as we left, I became a whole different person. Well, the person I’ve always been, really, just without that mask. Sam’s finishing law school now, Stanford. Doing great. Got himself a girl, and a job lined up straight outta school.”

Dean beams with pride. Cas remembers Sam. He was always in the public library, like Cas, and sometimes they talked. A sweet enough kid but he had a strange habit of getting into a lot of fights. “What did Sam have to say about you being gay after everything you did? Didn’t you steal his first girlfriend?” 

“I’m not actually _gay_ … I swing both ways. Dicks and chicks. And Sam? He knew it before I did. Stuck by me through it all.” 

Cas strips off the sticky t-shirt and quickly takes Dean’s button down.

“So. What d’ya say? Can we co-habit this city?”

Cas scowls at him over his shoulder, buttoning up. It was warm and dry and too big for him. “It’s a free country.”

“And God bless America… but are you cool?”

“If you’re asking if we’re suddenly best friends because you just admitted to stalking me in high school..?”

Dean winces and rubs a hand through his hair. “Geez, why does everything sound so much worse when you say it?”

There’s still a clump of dried blood stuck to the front of his hair. Cas steps forward and gently picks it out. “But there’s a chance that maybe, _maybe_ … I could learn, _in time_ , to forgive you.”

“In time? But that means you’d have to get to know me first,” Dean smirks confidently, barely a foot away. Cas can see the smattering of freckles over his huge red nose.

“Yeah,” Cas whispers, “I guess so.”

There’s a long moment where they just stand there looking at each other before Dean holds up the long abandoned Zorro Mask and says, “I think this is yours. And by the way, that shirt looks real good on you.”

“I swear to God, if you say it’d look better on your bedroom floor I’m gonna break your nose for real.” He wheels around towards the door as Dean splutters his denial. “And you’re not getting it back.”

“Hey, no, that’s my date shirt, dude!”

When Cas opens the bathroom door the wall of people leaning on the other side come tumbling in, Charlie at the bottom of the pile being crushed by Big Pete. Cas smirks at her misfortune. “That’s karma for eavesdropping, Charlie. You should all be ashamed.”

“Wait, _Charlie_?” Dean appears suddenly at Cas’ side.

“Ow, Pete, c’mon… Heeey, Dean.”

“You two know each other?” Cas splutters incredulously.

“Know each other? We’re best friends! She was my brother’s old college roommate!”

Cas and Dean glower at Charlie with matching death stares as she struggles her way out from under Big Pete - who’s being manhandled upright by Benny and Michael. “What? A girl can’t have more than one best friend? I have a lot of social circles!”

“Charlie, did you know that we knew each other?”

“No of course not! I mean, not really.” She shrugs halfheartedly, brushing her (glittery) red hair from her flustered face. “Well, I kinda had a suspicion based on both your anecdotes… Weeell, I mean… yeah, yep, I totally knew.”

Cas and Dean exchange a look. Cas has a fleeting suspicion that this whole night was somehow Charlie’s fault. It was probably nothing, but catching Dean’s eye, he’s got the impression he’s not the only one thinking it.

“Did you _plan_ this, Charlie?”

“No! Definitely not. Believe me, when I pictured you guys reuniting, it was not looking like _this_ -” she gestures between their equally dishevelled faces, “- in a place like _this_!” and points with disgust at the sweaty graffitied walls. 

“But you guys are both so super cool and I love you and I know you’ll love each other if you can, you know, look beyond the whole past lives thing!” She runs in and pulls them both into a tight hug. “God, I have been dreaming of you two being friends since forever, ‘cause maybe together you might finally be a match for me at Settlers of Catan!”

**

Cas is woken up by his body’s annoying need to function. Well, he doesn’t so much wake up as drag himself - unwilling and screaming - into the early half-life of a horrendous hangover through a swirling cloud of brain fog and various body cramps. He debates for a while whether he could just pee the bed and deal with it later, but then he realises he’d still have to move anyway so as not to be sleeping in a puddle of pee, and if that’s the case, he might as well just go to the bathroom. Besides, he’s pretty sure that’s Charlie snoring beside him and that’s not a conversation he wants to have, ever.

Once he’s flushed, he moves to the sink and he sees it’s covered in glitter. Covered. The faucets, the basin, the floor, his goddamn toothbrush. There must be some logical reason as to the sudden fabulousness of his bathroom sink, but that’s future-Cas’ conundrum. He can barely muster the energy for a sigh right now. 

Catching sight of himself in the glitter-streaked mirror, he looks like death warmed up. No, still frozen. Eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed, mussed up hair inexplicably sticky and (surprise!) still glittery, and there’s blood crusted up in his stubble and on his hands. Then he sees what he’s wearing: nothing but his boxers and a wrinkled plaid shirt that’s too big for him, and suddenly the whole night comes back to him - the shots, the blood, Dean Winchester, the next club, getting kicked out, coming back to his place, the strip boardgames, the shots again, the kiss– oh god, he’s never sobered up so quickly. He doesn’t think he could forgive himself for sleeping with Dean, drunk or not. 

He rushes into the bedroom, dread in his veins, and is flooded with instant relief that it was, in fact, Charlie beside him in bed. And a fully naked Lily asleep beside _her_. Apparently, his best friend getting lucky was not enough to keep Cas from the comfort of his bed. But also apparently, that didn’t seem to stop them either. 

He makes his way to the adjacent living room to assess the damage and the place is a wreck. There’s bottles and pizza boxes littered everywhere; playing cards, feather boas and variously sized shoes; there’s three people he doesn’t know, one of whom looks suspiciously like a ten year older version of Sam Winchester crashed out by the door. Oscar and Benny are squished into an armchair, and on the sofa Dean Winchester - with a swollen nose, and wearing one sock and a mysteriously acquired dress - is snoring between Devonte and Alex.

He stares at him fondly. He vaguely remembers them sharing another intimate moment sometime after 4 am; though he can’t remember what they talked about, he does remember the drunken kiss Dean planted on him. And the reactionary punch to the face Cas gave him back. It was some kind of miracle that his nose still wasn’t broken. At this rate it won’t be long until he’ll need reconstructive surgery… which would be a damn shame, Cas has to admit. Even in the state he’s in, he looks good and Cas can’t stop himself from grinning at the memory of his friendly smile, his quick jokes, his hitherto unknown gentle mannerisms.

Cas may be coming around to liking Dean, and may even find him absurdly attractive, but Cas has standards, and is not so easy that he’ll forget all of Dean’s sins just like that. He deserved that punch. Cas meant it when he’d said it would take him some time to forgive him…. but he’d also meant it when he said that he wanted to. He was never one to really hold grudges, and if Charlie had anything to say about it, it might not take that long to become friends at all. 

Cas fiddles with the cuffs of Dean’s shirt, grinning stupidly, before heading back to the bathroom for a long, hot, desperately needed shower.


End file.
